30 Hugs: Eiri x Shuichi
by Limey
Summary: Collection of ficlets, drabbles, and scribbles that range from crack to angst to sugarcoma romance... tripolar, but so is their relationship.
1. Hazel Eyes

**Title:**  
**Fandom:** Gravitation  
**Theme:** For the 30 Hugs LJ comm; #1 – Hazel eyes.  
**Pairing:** Yuki Eiri x Shindou Shuichi  
**Rating:** PG-13 (mention of nudity, VERY slight)  
**Word Count: **789  
**Disclaimer:** If you don't know who Yuki Kitazawa was, steer clear.  
**Summary:** Takes place before Shuichi moves in with Eiri. Angst, Eiri, angst!

Author's (rambling, unimportant) notes at bottom.

* * *

Cooking show. Deer hunting. Music videos. Reality show. News. Cartoons. 

His thumb kept pressing the forward button on the remote control in rapid fire, until the images became blurry in his tired mind. He hadn't slept in three days; his stomach felt wretched and he could barely gather the coordination to walk straight. In fact, he still wasn't quite sure how he managed to make it from his computer desk to the couch without losing consciousness. He thinks that somewhere in his mind, he had hoped for the release--even if it meant he would kiss the floor.

Comedy sketch. Soap opera. TV Movie. Drama series. Commercial. Commercial. Infomercial.

_Cigarette,_ he thought, his fingers trembling as they reached into his breast pocket. Without looking, he grabbed a stick from the pack, fumbled his lighter, and lit his cigarette as he placed it in his mouth. _Breathe._ He inhaled so deeply, he almost choked.

Three nights ago, he dreamed of Yuki... but not of their last meeting. _Those_ nightmares he had been spared, but somehow he knew that these new dreams were worse.

_Yuki... smiling at him hazily. His soft hair that Eiri could not stop running his hands through... the clear, brown eyes that gazed so gently at him, that made Eiri feel so wanted, so **loved**..._

He shut his blood-shot eyes tightly, trying to exorcise all recollection of the dream as he blows the smoke out of his lungs. Getting...dizzy...

_His eyes are glossy with lust, and Eiri can see it... he knows Yuki's eyes are a mirror to his own. 'Eiri,' he murmurs, and he pulls closer to him, his hands possessively cradling Eiri's face. He feels himself become aroused at the closeness of Yuki, his senses overloading as he cranes to kiss him._

The ash of his mostly un-smoked cigarette fell onto his lap, and he fought the tears that he knew were coming.

_So close to him now... Eiri drowns himself in his teacher's eyes, flecks of grey and green melting with the brown._

Hazel eyes. He could never forget them.

Sparkling and warm in his dream... cold and lifeless in his memory. He lurched forward and grabs his aching head with his hands, the stick falling to his floor--burned to its filter.

"Yuki..." he rasped, his voice hoarse from lack of use. He can feel Yuki's lips on his, the possessive grip of his arms around his shoulders, the warmth of his naked body. No, these were not memories... just a memory of his foolish dreams, before he learned about what life really had in store for him. He hated it. He hated himself for remembering it.

The doorbell rang, and Eiri wiped his eyes. Normally he'd ignore the intrusion of his privacy but he couldn't stop thinking of how welcome a distraction would be... aching and creaking, he slowly picked himself off the couch and made his way to the door as the bell rang again. Then again... and again, like a spoiled child expecting immediate entry. He scowled, wishing his distraction was a little more considerate.

He opened the door to find a wide-eyed, beautiful boy with a shock of cotton-candy pink hair.

"**YUKI!**" Shuichi tackled him with energy that literally floored Eiri--his head hit the wood panels on his floor, and he hissed a curse under his breath. Didn't the brat see how tired he was-- how utterly shitty he was feeling based on his appearance? Shuichi beamed, totally oblivious to all signs that anything was wrong.

"Yuki, I missed you! It _has_ only been three days, I know... and I know I said I'd try and give you space... but I just _can't_, and so I figured I'd come and see you again, even if you tried to shut the door in my face like you did before... lucky my foot caught the door that time, although I think it's still bruised..."

Shuichi looked down at his 'victim', and suddenly noticed that the fierce, golden eyes he'd become accustomed to were blood-shot and watery. Before he could voice concern, Eiri looked up at Shuichi's eyes... and smiled. Shuichi thought that he had died and gone to heaven.

"YUKI SMILED FOR ME!" he yelled triumphantly, his smile stretching across his face from ear to ear as he hugged Eiri even tighter than before. "You really DON'T hate me, I knew it!" He washed away the concern for Eiri in his mind with lots of sugary, love-struck thoughts.

And while revelling in his new-found discovery, Shuichi didn't notice that Eiri's arms had snaked around his body in a very light, loose embrace.

_What a horribly annoying, noisy distraction,_ he thought as he closed his eyes... and saw violet, not hazel.

**fin.**

* * *

Wow, my first Gravi fanfic in a while! But when I saw that this comm had started and I had a fair chance of grabbing Eiri x Shuichi, I just had to. I'll be putting the stories I write for the LJ comm on here as well, so look forward to it! And as always, let me know what you think. 

Thanks for reading!

Limey


	2. the wrong words

Woo, 2nd story out! This is me writing at a breakneck pace.

**Title:** things i can never say.

**Fandom:**Gravitation

**Theme: **#18; the wrong words

**Pairing:**Yuki Eiri x Shindou Shuichi

**Rating:**R

**Disclaimer:**Nekkid male sex. Nothing explicit, but it's there. Based on Volume 11 of the manga, nothing too spoiler-y though.

**Summary:**What happens when you love someone, but can't convey it? What happens when he's so used to your non-committal mannerisms, he shrinks back in fear at your kindness? And so the story goes.

"You're being so nice to me today, Yuki… I'm just surprised, that's all…"

* * *

First you think I'm cruel. Now you think I'm creepy.

Make up your mind, you damn brat! I'm getting too old for this 'changing' shit. I'm getting too set in my ways.

You're circling around me warily, your eyes catching mine at every opportunity, and I feel like I'm being unfairly scrutinized. I swear to God, you can check my blood for anything and I'll come up clean.

If you actually try to get me tested, though, I'll strangle you with my own hands.

"Yuki…?" You look at me shyly, face a little pale from shock. "You're really Yuki… right?" I bristle, my patience worn thread-bare.

"Who the hell else would I be, idiot?" You shrink back, mouth scrunched up in a frown.

"Well… it's just that…" You poke your fingers together, clearly unsure of what to say. "I'm… so used to the… the, er, '_grumpy_' Yuki…" I sigh, and inwardly something reprimands my past behavior. I'm the one that caused this… maybe if I had been a little nicer in the beginning…

But when have I ever given anyone special consideration in my life?

"Look," I say irritably, "make up your mind. Either you like me being horrible to you or you like me now. Either way, you're still a masochist."

"No no no, Yuki, I… I like this! I really do!" You force a smile to show your appreciation, but your eyes remain worried. I really love your eyes…. No matter how hard you try to get away with a lie around me, I can always see that your eyes remain hesitant. It was one of the first things that really stood out about you, that made you different from the loads of idiots that kept coming and going around me.

And I was sick of seeing your eyes reflect constant hurt or fear of cutting remarks. My hand lifts your small chin so that your gaze meets mine, and I smile awkwardly. Yeah, I know, I'm squeezing it out like a pained expression… something in me really does want to smile for you… it's just grown rusty from years without use.

"Shuichi," I say haltingly, "I… want to be better to you…" You bite your lip, and your fists clench and unclench nervously.

"Yuki, I don't know what… what made you decide to change. And I think that I really liked it at first… but then, I realized that you aren't supposed to become the Yuki of my daydreams." Before I can say anything, you wrap your arms around me and hug me tightly. "I know… I'm horrible with explaining stuff, I can never seem to find the right words like you can. But Yuki…" You hug me tighter, and your voice strongly hints that you are holding back tears. "Yuki, _I love you… _I want you on the outside to be who you are on the inside. If it takes forever, if it takes the rest of our lives for it to happen, I can wait." I breathe harshly, glaring at the blank wall in my line of sight.

"I give you what you want, and all you can do is complain," I growl. "It takes someone really stupid to throw away their fantasy for reality."

I know," you say, your voice small and buried within the folds of my shirt.

"Well, forget everything I've said, then. And whenever you get hurt by what I say, you're the one that specifically asked for it." You sniffle.

"I know, Yuki."

But I want to hurt you less, I really do. I hate the wetness on my shirt, the shaking fists clenched at my back. I want to tell you how much you mean to me, how special you are to me because you are the only one in so many years that has made me feel truly _alive_ again. But I can't stop being what I am now—a bastard.

Or maybe a boy in a fortress, trying to keep others out.

I do the only thing I know that will somewhat convey how I care, and pull you close to me as I tumble into the sheets of my bed. We move together, the clothes that separate us becoming a hindrance. I kiss you ferociously. Your hands run up and down my back, restless with want.

My lips suck indulgently on your neck, and you mewl. "Yuki…"

I love it when you hang onto my name like everything outside of this bed is of no consequence. I lose myself in you; lose control of my voice as I hear myself moaning indulgently into your skin… and in the back of my mind, as I thrust myself into you, I can hear myself saying everything you deserve to hear.

You lie in my arms, the post-coital glow radiating heat from your flushed skin. I nuzzle into your back, and you give me a throaty giggle.

"Mm, that was wonderful," you sigh. Your hands hold my arms tighter around you, and I know you're smiling without seeing your face. "I like it when you're fierce sometimes, Yuki, and then you cuddle with me afterwards."

"Why can't you shut up and enjoy the moment for once?" I mutter sarcastically, before I can stop myself. Your shoulders tense in reaction, then, as I remain silent, relax again.

You… you flinched. You _flinched_because of me.

My teeth clench, and I fight the growing ache in my chest as I hold you tightly.

You're wrong, Shuichi, you know… I'm the one who is hindered by the wrong words, that relies on a faulty messenger to spell out how I feel for you. Even with my apparent gift for words, I fall short. The irony is poignant.

"Yuki… you're holding me too tightly," you say weakly. I swallow the lump in my throat and release, then turn around and stomp out of bed.

An hour ago, you thought I was creepy. And now, we're back where we started. Just like you wanted it to be.

Shuichi, you _idiot_. How can things possibly be better this way? As I start walking toward the door of the bathroom, I hear you rustle in the sheets and meet your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you say slowly. "And… thank you."

I turn abruptly and take the few steps into my bathroom; then slam the door and lock it before I feel the hot tears sliding down my face.

**end.**

* * *

**AN:**Sigh, I can't stop writing angsty Eiri… but at this point in the story, he really is a big ball of angst. When I saw the theme, I thought of this part in the manga where he says everything Shuichi's wanted to hear, but Shuichi sees right through him… and it kind of wrote itself.

This is un-beta-ed... I am starting to think that, because I'm writing a lot more often now, I probably need one. :P


	3. rainbows&butterflies

**Title: **How K Got His Start in the Adult Industry

**Fandom: **Gravitation

**Theme:** #2 – Rainbows & Butterflies

**Pairing: **Yuki Eiri x Shindou Shuichi

**Rating**: PG-13

**Disclaimer**: Alludes to nekkid male sex… but hey, when does Gravitation _never_ do that? Or, better yet, when do _I_ never do that. Naughty naughty.

**Summary: **Crack. I can't even tell you whether it's good crack or not. I guess that's the chance you take when you buy it off the streets? (Honestly, I think all of the angst got to me; I imploded and then I started smoking it in large Columbian quantities.)

* * *

He was stunning. He was beautiful. He frowned in the mirror.

"I look like an idiot," said the idiot, feeling irritated. His boyfriend gnawed lazily on a nicotine stick while he lounged laconically on the couch behind him.

"Good. False advertising would be deceitful, and apparently your personal designer knew what she was doing."

Shuichi proceeded to glare in the mirror at Eiri, who pretended not to notice. "I can't believe they expect me to wear _this_ for our new CD cover! I look like a drag queen," he moaned despairingly. Eiri's eyebrows rose slightly as he looked over at Shuichi again with a cat-like smirk.

"A Teletubby drag queen," he suggested unhelpfully. This time, Shuichi turned to meet Eiri's gaze with a look that could wilt flowers. "Now that isn't a very cheerful expression," Eiri continued wickedly. "Nobody likes a grumpy Teletubby."

"Yukiiiiiiiiiii," the singer whined, his anger subsiding into pure desolation. The flashing butterfly antennae slipped a little over his forehead as his shoulders sagged. "They can't make me go out like this, they can't! The cover will look ridiculous! All of my fans will think I've gone off the deep end!"

Eiri eyed the rainbow-colored spandex jumpsuit critically. "You were psychotic to begin with, Shuichi. I fail to see the point in hiding it any longer… plus, what better way to announce loudly to the world that you screw your own team?"

"Yuki, you are _not_ helping!" Shuichi wailed, covering his face with his hands.

"… the red nail polish _is_ a nice touch, I must admit…"

"Yuki, I am _this_ close to asking if _you_ can be in the photo shoot with me in a matching outfit!"

Eiri scoffed at Shuichi's threat as the sound of the nicotine stick rattling across his molars echoed around the small dressing room.

"Bullshit," he replied plainly. His voice betrayed a small degree of worry. "There's no way you could ever make that happen." Shuichi smirked, the bright, sparkly lipstick faintly reminding Eiri of the Cheshire Cat.

"K would think it'd make _great_ publicity," he said slyly, tapping his bright blue platform heels together. His boyfriend turned a pale shade of green, horrible images running through his mind. K would shoot himself in the arm if he could ever convince Eiri to do a photo shoot with Shuichi.

In fact, K would hold Eiri at gunpoint to make him do a photo shoot with Shuichi. He could see it now, his pink, sparkling butterfly Speedos, complete with pink butterfly nipple covers…

'Stupid gun-toting American bastard,_'_ thought Eiri bitterly. He hated the look of triumph on Shuichi's face.

"Threatening me with humiliation so that I will be supportive of you," he said smoothly, holding his hands out toward Shuichi in one fluid motion. "I have to admit I'm impressed you're smart enough to do it." Shuichi bent down and crawled into a ball in Eiri's arms with a little smile.

"I learn from the best," he said simply. "But honestly… Yuki… there is _no_ way I am wearing this a second longer, let alone for that photo shoot!"

Eiri spat out his nicotine stick behind the couch and smiled hungrily into Shuichi's bright, newly-dyed green hair. "Then take off all your clothes, and leave the rest to me."

Less than five minutes later, Shindou Shuichi's dressing room was emitting very loud, very… _unmistakable_ sounds for the rest of the studio to hear. K groaned, then turned to the head photographer.

"We'll have to reschedule again," he said irately as he clenched the semi-automatic in his holster. The photographer balked, his fat face becoming red with anger and embarrassment.

"Mr. K!" he said in a shrill voice. "Perhaps, instead of assuming I have all the time in the world for this photo shoot, you should go in there and say something!" K turned to glare at the man while simultaneously pointing his gun at his neck. The photographer gulped.

"Okay, then, why don't _you_ do it if you're so busy, hotshot?"

A loud _crash_ came from the dressing room, followed by a growl and a high-pitched giggle. Then the sound of something ripping and the crack of a whip…

"Two days from now at noon?" said the resigned photographer. K put his gun down and smiled genially at the short man.

"Thank you for your cooperation," he said politely, before turning to face Shuichi's dressing room again with a pained expression. He decided that through this experience, he had, in fact, learned a few more things about managing Bad Luck:

Do not let Rage insist on stepping in as the 'artistic designer' of the new CD cover,

Do not let Yuki Eiri keep Shuichi 'company' in his dressing room under _any_ pretenses, and

Next time he would bug Shuichi's dressing room with hidden cameras, just in case his boyfriend managed to sneak in again.

After all, sex tapes still counted as publicity… right?

And behind K, Hiro and Fujisaki sighed in overjoyed relief at the cancellation of the shoot. Real men, after all, were not meant to sport yellow vinyl bikinis and red high heels.

_end._

* * *

**AN**: Perhaps I should write an epilogue with K's adventures in bringing his (inevitably created and absolutely hawt) sex tapes to Hollywood. Just kidding.

And dear God it's been a long time since I've written something funny—I feel rusty and old. I don't even know if it's funny. You be the judge, I guess. Oh, and a humongous thank-you to my new beta, Vicki! Anyone who puts up with my inability to reply to emails within 1-2 weeks deserves a gold star.


	4. euthanasia

**Title:** false star  
**Fandom:** Gravitation  
**Theme:** #13 - euthanasia  
**Pairing:** Yuki Eiri x Shindou Shuichi  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** Boys love each other, Eiri curses a lot. So does Shuichi, coincidentally, when he's pissed. Oh, and I set this story around a year after the end of the manga.  
**Summary:** Sometimes a relationship is not about love.

* * *

Another night, another fight. Shuichi cries, Eiri scowls. The pizza is untouched and cold, and Shuichi bitterly thinks about the fact that he could say the same for himself. His cold fingers are clenching tightly, folding into the clammy sweat of his palms; he forces himself to calm his breathing into a semblance of normalcy. He never lets his eyes leave his lover's, preferring instead to pierce into his gaze--Eiri wonders, somewhat amusedly, if Shuichi is trying to literally kill him with a look. It works, partially, but Eiri is much too smart to ever let Shuichi know when he is genuinely hurting him. 

"So what are you trying to say?" Shuichi spits out, his voice forceful and wavering at the same time. "Because if the almighty, God's-gift-to-every-woman Yuki is getting sick of his toy, I think his toy would like to know. Assuming that the toy even has feelings, of course."

Eiri groans, massages his temples, and breaks the glaring contest by closing his eyes. "Look, brat--Shuichi--"

"You don't even call me by my name as a default," Shuichi mutters, his eyes filling with tears. "Figures, seeing how easy it is for you to throw people away."

Eiri's eyes snap open, and his hand slaps the pizza off the table and face-down onto the floor. "It's so easy for you to feel sorry for yourself, isn't it," he sneers, inwardly stinging from Shuichi's words but refusing to back down. "_My heartless bastard slut of a boyfriend, who could easily replace me with another hole._ If that's what you want to think, go right on fucking ahead. If you want to kiss your own sorry ass whenever I tell you how I feel about shit, I'd be better off without you."

"It's so EASY for you to think I'm pathetic, isn't it? Would it really kill you to think better of me for once, Yuki? Is it that much of a stretch for you? Or is it easier for you to keep me wrapped around your finger when you beat my self-esteem into the ground?" Shuichi is sobbing, his vision filling with specs of light and watery color. "Is it easier to fuck me at your leisure, then push me away when I force you to _feel_?"

"What the fuck could you possibly know about how, or what, or even _if_ you make me feel anything?" Eiri replies softly, his eyes glittering dangerously. "Just because I've tolerated you longer than everyone else--"

"Yuki, we've been living together for almost two years! Who the hell are you kidding?" Shuichi's eyes fall onto the fallen pizza, unable to meet Eiri's gaze. Suddenly, his voice becomes small and tired. "It...this... will never stop, will it?"

The blonde pauses, his angry retort dissolving in the face of Shuichi's revelation. "What are you talking about?"

Shuichi waves his hand over the pizza, the table, the kitchen, and the space between Eiri and him, before viciously wiping his eyes. "Us. This whole thing. Our relationship. I've been keeping track, you know... it's almost two years to the day I moved in. You'd think a healthy relationship would be past this point by now."

Eiri wants to laugh at the thought of his relationship with Shuichi being "healthy", but something keeps him from doing so. "You mean, you think _smarter_ people would be done with this by now." His eyes become half-lidded as he pulls a cigarette from the breast pocket of his wrinkled shirt.

Shuichi suddenly kicks at the pizza on the floor, leaving a smear of tomato sauce on the hardwood. "I know, it's a stretch for me to think of myself as smart," he says, "at least, in your eyes." He looks up as Eiri lights his cigarette with a vengeance.

"It really is easier for you, especially when we fight, to let yourself think that I see you as a fucking idiot," he says drolly, cigarette smoke blowing through his teeth. "Well. Maybe I'm tired, or maybe your stupidity is rubbing off on me, but let me enlighten you on a few things."

"Oh, this should be good," Shuichi mutters, his eyes still overly bright. He crosses his arms over his bare chest and turns his gaze to the living room. Eiri stares at him, at the silhouette his body makes in the dim lighting, and holds the cigarette smoke in his lungs. His left eye twitches.

As he blows out the remainder of the smoke that his lungs choose not to absorb, he has no idea what he means to say. The minutes tick by loudly on a clock in the kitchen, and his cigarette burns out at the filter.

Shuichi still refuses to look at him, but Eiri can see the tears that begin to run down his face again. The guilt that he has been pushing away to the recesses of his mind attacks him in full force, and he throws the cigarette butt across the room in frustration. Shuichi scrunches his face and bows his head, stifling a sob as he breaks the thick silence.

"I should have known better than to hope you would say you see me as more than an easy fuck," he says softly, his hand covering his face. "Anyhow, I'm tired... I can't fight with you anymore, Yuki, I don't have the heart to." He pauses, then turns away. "You win. I'm going to bed."

Eiri stares dully at Shuichi's back, his throat numb with words that his pride won't allow him to voice. He wants to say: _Shuichi, you're a fucking idiot, why would I fight against my past so desperately to be with you?_ Or perhaps: _The reason I keep pushing you away, even after two years, even after I tell you that I love you, is because I'm the fucking idiot and I'm so scared of losing you that I can't let you in._ His stomach is churning, and he wants to hurl.

_I didn't want to win. I didn't want to fight. I don't even remember what we started fighting about. I did what I did because--_

"--I didn't want to hurt you," Eiri says, his voice raspy and raw with emotion. Shuichi stops walking away, his frame becomes rigid.

"You, Uesugi Eiri," he says in a small, tight voice, "are a liar. I love you so much I can't breathe..." He exhales loudly, trying to compose himself. "I love you, and I want to believe that you don't want to hurt me. I do, I really do. Pathetic, isn't it? I'll be here tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and all the way until fucking eternity because of how I feel for you, and we both know it. But we both also know that we'll never stop getting into fights, and we'll never have a healthy relationship--by anyone else's standards, anyway--and we'll never stop hurting each other."

"Shuichi--" Eiri barely recognizes his voice and moves to grab his throat with a cold, numb hand.

"We'll never stop hurting each other. Don't lie to me like that, or I'll actually start to hope."

The words cut deep; Eiri finds his strength again and jumps out of his chair, knocking it backwards, before striding over the pizza and holding Shuichi to himself tightly. His arms tingle and nerves spark to life--he holds the singer rigidly, and cannot speak.

They stand in the darkened room for a long while before Shuichi turns around and screams into Eiri's chest, screams random strings of curses and incoherent wishes. After a few minutes, he pulls away to meet Eiri's gaze.

"I wish," he starts saying, trembling. Eiri can't meet his eyes, and closes his own.

"Me too," he says, his face pained. "I wish that, too."

_end._

* * *

If you're curious, I have a draft of this story written on my fic LJ… so you can kind of see the ickiness I go through sometimes when getting from an idea to a story. Either way, I hope you enjoyed the final product—special thanks to my special beta, Vicki, for taking time out of her busy day to help me out! 


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